


The Eleventh Hour

by GrumpyQueer



Series: Mimi & Edmund [1]
Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Edmund Reid x Mimi Morton, Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Happy AU, New Year's Eve, Ripper Street Season 5, Romance, Smut, Snowball Fight, Whitechapel - Freeform, ripper street - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyQueer/pseuds/GrumpyQueer
Summary: *Contains S5 spoilers*Edmund Reid and Mimi Morton welcome in the new century.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as an alternate ending. It contains a fair amount of fluff, and there is also some light to medium smut within, so don't take it too seriously. 
> 
> Basically, I thought Mimi and Edmund were a surprisingly brilliant pairing, and I simply wished to write a story which explored the possibilities of their relationship.

It had been many weeks since Edmund had seen Miss Morton, and he was beginning to feel the ache of her absence in his life — missing the evenings they had shared together in her playhouse, that unique excitement of seeing her smile and chuckle at the end of a long, trying week.  
  
At present, Mimi was in Paris visiting some theatre friends, previewing many a new show. Prior to leaving London, however, she had been ever-so assuring to Edmund, stating that she would send word as soon as she returned, eager to make plans for them to dine together, once more. Yet, Edmund — despite retaining _some_ hope — couldn’t help but worry that she would meet someone else whilst abroad: someone dapper and creative; Someone in the arts; Someone who he thought must surely be more suited to her; Someone young, and fun.  
  
Edmund sat hunched in his dimly lit office, looking down at his cup of cold, cloudy tea when the love-sick stir began to rise in his empty stomach. The image of Mimi’s beautiful face and warm brown eyes held in his mind, as well as the very moment she had leaned in close, skimming his cheek with her own as she bid him farewell the night before parting for Paris. It was that very moment in which he had almost followed his instincts and near overwhelming desire to kiss her, but withheld for fear of ruining the friendship they had built, the fear that _'he shan’t bring her any good'_. Though, that somewhat disappointed, downward gaze upon her face that night as she turned and walked away, also held in his mind, prompting him to ponder that, perhaps, not taking any action upon his feelings was already causing her pain — a pain that she did most certainly not, ever, deserve to bear.

After realising he had been staring at his clock ticking along — and that it was already far beyond finishing time — he promptly stood and fetched his plaid coat and bowler from the stand, leaving the station-house to head home. But shake her from his mind for long, he could not; striding along the muddy cobblestones, past the market stalls shutting up shop, he found himself thinking of her again, wondering if he had, indeed, missed his chance and let her fall into someone else’s open, loving arms. He convinced himself, in that moment, that it must certainly be so. 

Upon reaching Fairclough Street, he quickened his pace, deciding it best to crawl inside his biggest bottle of scotch as soon as he hung up his coat. Closing the creaky door behind him, he turned and nearly stepped right over the picture postcard on the floor by his muddied boot. A surprised smile grew on his face as he crouched down and saw the picture of the Eiffel Tower upon it:

_Dear Edmund,_

_Paris has been rather lovely but I cannot deny that I miss the sight of you in that absurdly tall top hat of yours. Have made arrangements to be home in London before New Year’s Eve, so I do suggest you prepare your finest suit and shine your shoes._

_Shall send a telegram with further instructions once I have returned._

_Do take care. - M x_


	2. Chapter 2

_**31st December, 1899** _

Snow gently began to fall over dark and dim Whitechapel, drifting down onto Edmund Reid’s tailcoat and top hat, settling like a sprinkling of powdery sugar. Striding, as he were, towards the New Alexandria Theatre, he pondered his plans for the evening ahead, taking off his hat and turning the brim of it in his shaking hands. The streets all about smelled rich with chimney smoke and strong liquor, his deep breaths in of the collective scent and thin air exhaling back out into plumes of dewy fog.

Soon, he turned down the little alleyway that led to the stage door, his heart beating like a hummingbird’s and mind keeping pace as it rehearsed what he hoped to be able to say on this night, to her…  
  
_Her —_ the one who now stood at the open stage doors smiling widely back at him, her kind eyes pooling with adoration as she nodded and let him in, their gazes not parting from one another.   
  
Both were rather used to this routine, by now, having spent many evenings over the last year, here, in her beautifully restored playhouse; this very place had become to feel like a home to him once more, right when he had lost all sense of such a thing. It was the familiarity of it all: the music; the uproar; the rhythmic thud of feet running and dancing upon the stage; the colours and costumes and flowing, fancy champagne. But far more than this, it was her company and her big heart — her smile that soothed and erased. Her laugh.

His heart still raced yet the sight of her, there, in front of him, caused his worrying thoughts to dissipate as if mere smoke. ‘Miss Morton, you look as lovely as ever’, he confessed, his eyes briefly following her dress to where it met the floor.

She smiled back at him, teasing. _‘_ And you, Inspector… in a brand new suit, are you not?’

Nervously straightening his lapels as she looked upon him, he stammered somewhat. ‘Oh… indeed, I thought it fitting for the occasion.’

‘Quite, yes. A new suit for a new century!’

Mimi placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed to quell those obvious nerves, leaning in to adjust his slightly crooked bow tie. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her.

‘Indeed.’ She winked, resting her hand back upon his arm. ‘Much better… and dare I say, rather dashing, Mr. Reid.’

Edmund’s cheeks flushed ripe, his heart flapping like a wild bird against his chest as she handed him her flute of champagne and, with her usual gumption, took to the stage to introduce the first act. When the audience applauded and roared eagerly at her presence, she turned to look at him standing in wings and gave him a nod and a knowing, loving smile.  

_***_

After the conclusion of the evening's show, Mimi led Edmund up to her office — their usual, makeshift dining area when they had nights in, together, at the theatre. Being the special evening that it were, she had not spared herself to spoil the both of them, ordering an abundance of fine food and wine for the occasion, with plenty of quail, oysters, glazed fruits, macaroons, cakes, coffee and of course, the finest of champagne.

It had also become routine for them to play a record on Mimi’s beloved gramophone while they ate, and to talk of literature they been enjoying, and the arts. But on _this_ particular night, the potential promises of the next century — what with the brink of a new, exciting era — had captivated their dinner conversation.

‘Can you imagine, even a mere fifty years from now Mr Reid… these Whitechapel Streets… my goodness! I cannot even begin to fathom what they may look like?’

‘Indeed — how the people may dress or speak, and what advancements will have been made, I wonder?’

‘Mmm, quite so; I imagine that those of the future shall look back upon us during their learning, pitying our preposterous manner of dress and speech’, Mimi laughed, signalling in jest towards the extravagant dress which she wore on this night.

‘Surely, Miss Morton…’ Edmund smiled back at her amiably, ‘they shall not laugh at you! _No._ I am sure that they would marvel if they were to look back upon someone such as yourself, the beauty they would see, for instance, if they came across you in a photograph.’

Suddenly, he felt his cheeks rush hot once more as he spoke, realising he had so blatantly gushed upon her, his heart now stitched upon his sleeve for her to see.

Mimi leaned forward, bringing her elbows up onto the table. ‘ _Goodness_ , Mr Reid, what _could_ you be trying to say?’ A devious smile grew on her face, peering over the rim of her champagne flute and raising an eyebrow.

‘Uh… forgive me, Miss Morton, but I merely mean to say… well, despite the abundance of darkness and chaos within Whitechapel, there is indeed much beauty still to be found here.’

As Edmund paused and watched her with adoring eyes, a genuine smile of surprise grew upon her face, and she, too, felt her cheeks begin to blush alongside. But, unsure of what to say in return — and out of fear of ruining the moment  — she simply took her cigarette tin and extended her arm across the table in offering.

Without speaking a word, Edmund reached forward and nodded appreciatively, sliding a cigarette out from the tin and wedging it between his lips. Mimi watched him carefully as he flicked the match to light it, their eyes catching. A moment of longing looks passed, until Edmund lowered his hand down upon hers, giving in to the urge to run his thumb tenderly across it.

‘Miss Morton… I… I need to…’ he whispered, pausing as he leaned forward toward her, his voice low and subdued.

She smiled across at him, coyly. ‘Yes, Mr. Reid?’

‘I… _uhhh_ … may we… may we please sit here like this for a moment?’

Her soft smile still present, she nodded at him, taking a drag on her cigarette with one hand as she sensually traced her thumb across his with the other.

In that pure peace for a few moments, they sat quietly smoking and gazing at each other with hands connected, until Mimi decidedly stood to her feet and led Edmund over to the gramophone.

‘Something slow, I would imagine’, she suggested, flicking through her modest collection and trying not to be distracted by Edmund’s dumbfounded, love-struck gaze in the corner of her eye. ‘How about… _this_?’

Edmund retrieved his tiny reading glasses from his coat pocket, squinting his eyes until he slid them on to make out the title of her suggestion.

_Nimrod — Enigma Variations — Composed by Edward Elgar_

‘Ah yes, beautiful. Impeccable taste, Miss Morton.’

Beaming, he stepped in a little closer to watch her carefully place the record on the turn table and ease the stylus down upon it, a look of wonderment upon his face; he never grew tired, nor lost the fascination, with the marvellous technology of it all.

‘And to think what musical machines may come to be invented in the next century, things which shall somehow be even more advanced than this!’

‘Oh quite, indeed, and what a thought, Mr Reid: to think of the mysteries to come, the things which yet remain… unmade.’

They stood in listening, lost in the beautiful arcs of the melody until Edmund, finally, began to ease himself ever closer to her, sweating with nerves.

‘May I, Miss Morton?’ His eyes were filled with hope.

‘Oh, if you _insist,_ Mr Reid’, she toyed, smiling wide before leaning in to his open arms. Closing her eyes, she placed her head softly upon his big, warm chest.

‘ _Yes, yes of course you may..._ ’

Immediately, he let out a quiet, relieved sigh upon her touch, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms further around her. They held each other near and ever-so slightly swayed like leaves in a shy breeze, barely moving with each step yet feeling the melody echo and replace the heartbeat in their chests.

After a few moments, Mimi took his hands and lowered them, sliding them down to hold her hips. When she placed her head back upon his chest, she immediately noticed the quickening pace of his breath. Most kindly, she fought back the increasing urge to say something rather teasing about his sudden and obvious arousal that firmly pressed against her stomach. However, she teased in her own way, pressing into him even closer to feel the heat of his skin upon her own, the dewiness of the slight sheen of sweat, and the smell of his woody cologne on his collar and neck. Edmund gulped loudly at her closeness and the feeling of holding her so near, before fighting to contain a sigh as she traced her fingertips up both his arms and dangled her hands behind his neck.

‘Well, isn’t this amusing?’

‘Hmmm?’ He smiled, still appearing rather frazzled, his face red with his embarrassment.

Mimi pulled her head back a little, whispering into his neck. ‘I recall coming to formally know of you for the first time, Mr. Reid, all those years ago when you seemed no more than the famous, uptight Inspector, diligently guarding his archives on Leman Street.’

‘Oh’, he grinned, rather awkwardly. ‘Yes…uh—’

‘I would have _never_ imagined that the two of us would be here, together thus, especially on such a special occasion as this.’

 

***

 

Edmund stood to the side of the room fiddling with his gloves as he waited for Mimi to return from powdering her nose. A dryness itched at his throat, his chest heavy after interpreting Mimi’s comment as a signal that she was not _quite_ as romantically interested in him as he were in her, despite her showing him some obvious signs of affection. Perhaps — he pondered to himself as his eyes darted nervously about the room — she merely enjoyed the company platonically; or, perhaps it was more so out of a sense of pity, what with her knowing that most whom he held dear had now left this place.

He feared, in that moment, that she would never be able to shake the image of him as being nothing more than the _Edmund Up-Right of Leman Street_ — that he would only ever hold her back from finding true happiness with someone else.

However, as Mimi returned to her office — freshly powdered and perfumed with her rich, floral scent — her eyes and smile beamed straight back towards him, causing his heart to quicken once more, his mouth slightly agape.

‘Well, Mr Reid... you shall be joining me, I do very much so hope? As you well know, I’m in no great mood for raging parties nor balls, however, this dear friend of mine does indeed have a glorious view of the river from their home, and it would be such a delight to see the fireworks, would it not?’

Edmund nodded, watching her with a tender smile. ‘Yes, most certainly, Miss Morton.’

‘ _Well then_ , I suggest we get to it, as this century only has…’ she flipped out her silver pocket watch and squinted her eyes. ‘57 minutes _… my goodness_ , let us make those count, shall we?’

With raised eyebrows and a succession of nods, Edmund followed her out the door in a fluster, simply happy to be spending any time by her side.

‘Oh, and do fetch that bottle of champagne, would you?’ Mimi suddenly remembered, pointing to the silver champagne bowl by the table where they had dined.

‘I refuse to welcome in the new century drinking someone else’s _terrible_ champagne.’

 

***

 

The streets now had a thick layer of snow upon them, the snowflakes falling heavy and reflecting the amber glow from the surrounding gaslights before eventually settling at foot. But despite the winter chill and icy snow, the thick-skinned locals of the East End were all upon the streets, warm with ale and singing songs of merriment and celebration, hopeful for the good surely to come with arrival of the new century.

‘Would you be a dear, Mr. Reid, and hold my gloves for me so I can unleash our champagne?’

‘Of course’, Edmund obliged, the look of adoration still ever-present in his eyes whenever he looked upon her. ‘But… may I do that for you? I would not wish for your hands to get cold.’

‘Oh _come,_ Mr. Reid, 'tis barely a chill, and I _do_ know how to pop a cork!' She shot him a patronising grin. ‘No, you hold these…’ she continued, handing him her gloves and wedging the bottle of champagne under her armpit. ‘And I shall—’

***POP***

‘Oh, good heavens…’

They stood for a moment, stunned, after hearing a loud smash of nearby glass.

Edmund grinned, promptly confiscating the fizzing champagne from her hands. ‘Miss… Morton… ’

Without hesitation, she leaned in and snatched it straight back, guzzling the overflow of champagne with a cheeky glint in her eye. ‘Will you arrest me, Mr. Reid?’

He leaned in, gazing down at her lips. ‘On _what_ charge, Madam?’

‘ _Well_ ,’ She pondered. ‘I imagine one would call it… recklessness of some kind or another, would they not?’

Edmund smiled and stood up straight, attempting to look as innocent as she. ‘I don’t know what you speak of, Miss Morton.’

She grinned back, taking another long sip of their champagne. ‘Indeed, Inspector, you saw nothing at all!’

Hurrying away from the crime scene chuckling, they held hand in hand and passed the bottle between them, the swigs of the fizzy booze, and the company, warming their hearts. Indeed, warm and peaceful, until — suddenly — a snowball found itself stuck to Edmund Reid’s face, with Mimi bent over in front of him in a fit of hysterical laughter.

‘I am sorry, Mr. Reid, but the snow is lovely and soft, is it not?’

Slowly raising his hand up to flick free the lingering snow which clung to his eyebrows and stubble, Edmund revealed a childish, gentle smile beneath, entirely failing to appear stern.

‘ _Now_ I shall have to arrest you, Madam!’

‘Oh goodness, I am terrified’, she jested, bending down and shaping another quick snowball in her hands. ‘Think sharp, now, Mr. Reid!’

This time, however, his reflexes were just quick enough, the snowball skimming across his top-hat as he ducked. 

‘Quite sprightly, aren’t you?’ she continued to tease, nonchalantly leaning upon a gaslight and taking another generous swig of champagne.

But Edmund simply stood paused a few yards from her, waiting and watching with a playful glint in his eye.

‘Well… _go on_ , policeman! Shan’t you dare attempt to seek revenge and plant one upon me?’

He looked at her longingly, shaking his head. ‘I couldn’t possibly, I’m afraid.’

‘My, you are gentlemanly, aren’t you, Inspector?’

Rather urgently, a strong desire rose within him to hold her in his hands and kiss her soft lips, almost becoming overpowering. He paused for a moment, still smiling across at her, before shaking his nerves and finding it within him to let her know exactly how he felt. Slowly, he strode forth and admired her beauty before taking off his top hat, placing it down upon the snow, and easing his hands gently up to her face. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes for a moment, Edmund completely forgetting to confess his feelings and, instead, being drawn straight in to kiss her upon the lips, his thumbs running over her cold rosy cheeks. Wrapping her arms inside his jacket, she pulled him closer to her, their kiss intensifying as their tongues passionately met and she pulled at his bottom lip. He pressed forth, kissing her neck sensually before finding himself groaning with passion and lifting her up off the ground, holding her entirely in his arms as her feet dangled just above the snow.

‘This is, indeed, desperately romantic of you Mr Reid’, she whispered, kissing him on the neck approvingly. ‘But I think we should, perhaps, relocate, should we not? A cold, icy street is not exactly the ideal place for one to undress.’

His face began to run fierce hot once more, his body elated and shaking slightly from her touch — the warm softness of her lips on his and seeing her beautiful, rich brown eyes so close.

‘Indeed… and where would you suggest, Miss Morton?’ he asked giddily, leaning in to plant a succession of gentle kisses upon her cheek.

Mimi glanced about, feigning to look suspicious. ‘ _Well,_ I do, in fact, live rather nearby, and I am certain that we could continue this, there.’

‘But, uh, I would not be keeping you from your dear friend’s party by the river, would I?’ Edmund asked worriedly, forever fearful of blocking her from some greater happiness.

‘Oh for goodness sake, Edmund… _must_ I spell it out? I truly care not for fireworks and silly old rivers and other such diversions, when I only suggested we attend so that I could do so with _you_.’

Reid nodded and smiled rather proudly as she took his hand and led them forth through the gentle snowfall — a trail of their footprints pressed into the snow, leading all the way to her door.

 

***

 

Edmund followed Mimi to her sitting room, the butterflies in his stomach intensifying into a torturous tickle and ache. And, by the time they were in her kitchen — with Mimi fetching more cold wine from her icebox — a nervous sweat was rolling down his forehead.

‘Here’, she passed him a full glass, before noticing the droplets by his temples, the red of his cheeks.

‘You look rather flushed, Edmund; are you quite alright?’

‘Oh, yes, I…’ he stammered, feeling even more vulnerable now that he knew his nerves were, once more, so blatantly on display.

‘I think perhaps you should sit, come…’

Mimi turned and led him into the sitting room; within, there were bookshelves, an unlit fireplace, and a large window with a rather beautiful view of the falling snow and cloudy, dark sky. 

‘Please, do take a seat Inspector!’ She smiled, gently easing him to sit down upon the fine leather lounge which lay right behind. Raising her hand to his forehead, she felt the heat emanating from his skin, before running her hand through the rest of his damp hair. ‘Nothing some cold wine cannot fix, Mr. Reid.’

‘Indeed’, he smiled warmly, raising his hand up and weaving his fingers between her own, eager for her closeness.

Once she placed herself down beside and nestled in nice and near, they sat for a short while and watched the snowfall as they drank their wine, their connected hands resting on Edmund’s upper thigh and their eyes occasionally catching one another’s gaze. After a few moments more, Edmund decidedly placed his wine upon the table beside him before turning back to Mimi and easing his lips back upon her own, the passion promptly returning as their kiss intensified. Seconds later, Mimi found herself sat across his lap with him pressing towards her, moaning loudly as she nibbled up and down his stubbly jaw and neck.

She quickly pushed his waistcoat from his shoulders, slipping her hands underneath his suspenders and holding them taut before unbuttoning his shirt, leaning down to gaze into his stormy blue eyes. Massaging his hands through her hair, he moved her in towards him to kiss her once more, his tongue eagerly pressing against her own, tasting the sweetness of the wine upon her plump lips. Once Mimi noticed him thrusting towards her hips, she began to trace her hands from behind his neck, all the way down to slowly unbutton his trousers, feeling his strong arousal pushing back up against her hand.

‘Miss Morton…’ he sighed loudly, tilting his head backwards and closing his eyes, wincing with pleasure upon her tender touch. But when she looked at his face, she feared that he appeared to be somewhat distressed.

‘Is everything alright, Edmund?’ She asked sincerely, leaning forward and kissing his cheek, her eyes concerned and attentive.

‘Yes, yes… it is just that… I have not done this in quite some time, and I may—'

‘Oh, relax, Edmund’, she interrupted, smiling at him reassuringly. ‘I had my suspicions long ago that, well… let me simply say that I am aware you are far more so intimate with your work than you are with any other, at least for quite some time, correct?’

He nodded with resignation, still panting before taking his hand back up to caress her dewy cheek.

‘I merely feared that you could be disappointed.’

‘Please, do hush’, Mimi grinned, putting her hand over his mouth in jest to silence all his worry. ‘I have no doubt that you shall be more than adequate, and indeed, what you may initially lack in stamina, I suspect you will make up for in size.’

A smile found itself curling on the corner of Edmund’s lips before he inevitably began to chuckle, releasing the weight and worry upon his shoulders.

Leaning back, he then eagerly watched her finish undoing his trousers, squirming and panting with pleasure as he felt himself, now, in her soft hands. Quickly, he trailed his hands up her thighs to slide down her garter, until she eased back from his lap and stood up to take off her dress, his wide-eyed stare glued to her every movement. Mimi smiled back at him cheekily as each layer fell to the floor. Finally, he let out an agonised sigh as she removed her slip and revealed her entirely bare breasts and milky skin, before walking back towards him and confidently climbing across his lap. Unable to hold himself back for a single moment longer, he pulled her close and began to kiss her with fierce passion, the intoxicating smell and the warmth of her body against his chest stirring him — his hands holding her naked hips as she guided him in.

Instantly, they both began to moan with a deep pleasure, pressing further together and finding a steady, heaving rhythm. Mimi hung her arms around his shoulders, the tips of their noses touching whilst they gazed into each other’s eyes. And after a few minutes, their pace began to rapidly quicken, Edmund throwing his head backwards and groaning as he fought to persevere, determined to bring Mimi to her full completion.

Suddenly, her moans intensified into near yelps as she bobbed with an increasing vigour. The sweat on their skin formed into droplets which combined and cascaded down their pressing, searing bodies. Edmund’s mouth fell open, releasing his animalistic grunts, gazing up at Mimi on top of him and looking thoroughly mesmerised by her beauty and control. Ever-so loudly and uncontained, they came apart together, sinking back, entirely breathless and undone. Edmund relaxed, leaning in to rest his head upon her shoulder, the hot air from his breath tingling her skin.

‘Forgive me, Mimi, I…’ he began, his chest rapid with its rise and fall.

Though she promptly interrupted him with a tender, strung out kiss. ‘Please…’ she panted, sighing with satisfaction as she looked down to take his hand. ‘As I said… _more_ than adequate, Mr Reid.’

She leaned forward and kissed him again —slowly, tenderly— before turning herself around so that she could snuggle beside him on the lounge and rest her head upon his chest. Edmund couldn’t peel his eyes from her, watching her held close against him, with loving eyes.

As they still fought to catch their breath, they sat nestled close, returning to peacefully watching the snowfall from the beautiful, midnight evening sky. Hand in hand, and with the warmest of hearts, they smiled at the sudden uproar of cheers echoing through the cold streets below — the sound of bells clanging in the turn of a new century.

 


	3. Epilogue

The sun splashed across Mimi’s floor, easing the both of them from their sleep as the room gradually brightened in an illuminating, golden haze.

With feet dangling off the edge of the bed, Edmund remained nestled up to Mimi, holding her close from behind. Their legs and arms intertwined, both sharing the same cosy, plump pillow. 

He quickly moved in to kiss her cheek in his half-slumbered state as soon as he noticed her beginning to rouse.  
  
‘You look as beautiful as ever, Miss Morton’, he whispered in her ear, watching her lovingly as she blinked and rubbed her eyes.  
  
Turning to face him, she beamed, all giddy from the lack of sleep — the night they had just shared romping about in her sheets.  
  
‘He cannot _still_ be here, can he?’ She teased, planting a kiss on his lips.  
  
‘Good morning…’    
  
‘Good morning, Miss Morton, and a very Happy New Year to you.’

‘Oh, _quite_ happy indeed… but, Edmund, you have spent almost this entire century thus far inside my bed, and indeed… inside myself… surely we are on a first name basis by now, are we not?’  
  
As usual, Edmund responded to her teasing with the prompt blushing of his cheeks, a chuckle, and now, another slow, long kiss.  
  
‘Of course, Miss… _Mimi_.’ He propped himself up on his elbows, looking at her eagerly. ‘Shall I fetch us some tea? Are you hungry?’

Tilting her head and smiling appreciatively at him and his offer, Mimi opened her mouth to answer but soon found herself halting as her gaze fell upon his scarred shoulder — that which she certainly knew the tale of, but had only seen for the first time, and with her very own eyes, last night. She sat paused for a moment more, looking at him curiously, and then softly and slowly ran her fingertips across it, feeling the formation of the deep scar tissue — the pale pink, frayed patterns in his skin which had faded some, year after year.

Mimi looked back up into his gentle, watery eyes gazing back down at her, and tenderly ran her thumb across his cheek.

‘Yes, dear Edmund, but not just yet…’ she whispered, easing herself back in close and leaning in to kiss his chest.

‘May we stay here like this, for a few moments longer yet?’

Wrapping his arms back around her, he nestled his cheek right back up to hers. 

‘ _Yes… yes of course we may_ ’, he whispered sonorously in return. Smiling peacefully, they both closed their eyes and let the winter sun warm their skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Sorry for the obvious errors with this. It needed more editing but this is all I could really manage. 
> 
> I'm hoping to make this a little 'series', with a few more stories of Mimi/Edmund, following on from New Year's Eve chronologically.


End file.
